


Pretty Please

by scifiromance



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Crew wide friendship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 15:38:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11694708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifiromance/pseuds/scifiromance
Summary: Chakotay wasn't sure why Seven wanted to go to *this* party so badly, but when she makes an offer he can't refuse...C/7. Crew wide friendship One shot.





	Pretty Please

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheLadyMage](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=TheLadyMage).



> First of all, thanks very much to TheLadyMage over on FanFiction.Net for giving me this idea, letting me use her taster scene, and then keeping up with me as I ran away with the idea in order to help. Check out her profile on Fanfiction.net (and mine there) for more C/7 goodness!
> 
> I do not own Star Trek: Voyager.

Chakotay stepped in front of the mirror with a curled lip. It wasn’t the costume that bothered him so much, although yellow wasn’t his colour, as the makeup that Seven had painted over his face, turning him from his usual tan to a metallic pale. The contacts burned his eyes too, but he was unable to rub them without ruining Seven’s hard work. His girlfriend’s ire was the worse of the two evils, so he squinted instead. He glanced over at Seven with a frown. “Are you sure you don’t just want to stay in tonight?”

Seven glanced up from the little bowl of body paint she was using to temporarily dye her arms and legs a pale powder blue. She returned his frown with a slight pout. “You do not wish to accompany me to the party?”

“It’s not that…” He began, turning back to look at his reflection in the mirror. “It’s just…”

“You do not like the costume I chose?”

“No, it’s…”

“You have something against androids?” She knew he could hear the tease in her voice as she put the last streak of blue up her bare leg. “You are dating a woman who is technically a cyborg.”

With a soft sigh, he conceded. “You couldn’t have picked Kirk, or Spock or Riker?”

“So I could call you ‘pink skin’ all night?” Seven smirked, putting away the bowl of dye to sidle up next to him in the mirror and adjust the two pale blue antenna on top of her head. “I believe there will be multiple Kirks, Spocks and Rikers partying tonight, I wanted you to be individual.” Chakotay smiled at her. Even if someone had happened to have the same idea, he doubted they would’ve gone as full out for costumed perfection as Seven had with him. “I could have made you a tribble…” She turned to face him, brushing his yellow uniform shirt smooth. “I think you make a very distinguished Data.”

“I’d make a very distinguished couch potato.” He replied, putting his hands on either side of her waist and pulling her to him. “Let’s stay in tonight.”

The blonde drew her brows together, checking her internal chronometer for the time. They had twenty one minutes before the festivities were due to begin. Naomi and Icheb would soon be waiting. “We promised…” She said softly. “Naomi and Icheb will be disappointed.”

“We could make it up to them.” He pecked a kiss on her forehead, getting a brief chalky taste of makeup. “It’s not as if Icheb likes parties any more than you do…” He gave her a slightly confused smile that set alarms going off in Seven’s mind.

“I happen to know that Icheb has put a great deal of effort into his costume.” She told him, “He researched extensively.”

“What did his research lead him to choose?” Chakotay asked with a chuckle, his curiosity more focused on the hem of her Kirk era mini-dress cadet uniform. Engineering red rather than Science blue, to suit her colour preference as well as her new blue skin tone.

“It is a surprise, as is Naomi’s costume.” Seven answered, while mentally upbraiding herself for using the word ‘surprise’.

“I’m sure they’ll take plenty of photos. Naomi is still taking that that holo-camera she got for her birthday everywhere with her.” He clasped her hands. Her implants hadn’t been painted over, but she’d painstakingly covered each thread of pale human skin between the silver webbing. He ran a gentle thumb up the silver lace on blue of her left hand and arm, smirking when she shivered. “It’s been a long week querida. We can always show our faces for a while later on, but for now,  we can have some peace and quiet, some alone time…” He kissed her soundly, temptingly.

Seven couldn’t stop her lips from curving up as the kiss broke, but hurriedly caught herself. Attendance was the priority. Her sole task in the preparation for this party, other than their two costumes. The Captain and the others had neglected to factor in that under usual circumstances she would have seized on an offer to miss the party and that Chakotay knew this about her. He _liked_ that about her even, and while in general she was highly gratified that he tended to prioritise _their_ time off duty when all of his working life prioritised the crew’s wellbeing as a collective, tonight it was…inconvenient. However, perhaps she could use it to her advantage now nonetheless…

Slowly she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss, sighing with him, hers a little regretful, as he relaxed, believing he was getting his way. “Come on…” She murmured, “We should go to the party, in its entirety.”

“There’s no ‘should’ about it, mi amor.” Chakotay answered huskily as his hands cupped her ass.

“Hmm…” Seven breathed, non-committal for a moment as her body responded to his confident touch. Finally though, she took back control and pushed him back until his legs hit the edge of the couch and he sat down with a soft grunt. She quickly toed off her black heels, and stood between his knees. “Please?” she asked coyly, watching his face.

“Seven…”

She put one knee up on the couch beside his thigh, her weight settling on his leg as she deployed a phrase she’d overheard multiple times, and witnessed its effectiveness, during her ill-judged observational study of human relationships. That, and Naomi had used it successfully on her, Neelix and Icheb. “Pretty please?”

His hands came up to hold her hips. “Stay home…”

Shifting her weight, she brought her other knee up, straddling his waist. He breathed a focused sigh out of his nose, his hands beginning to knead her hips through her cadet dress. “Pretty please with a cherry on top?” she asked, her fingers lacing together behind his neck.

“We can go to the next party. It isn’t like there isn’t one every week for some reason or…”

She smirked as a twist on the phrase unique for them occurred to her, leaning down to his ear and purring, “Pretty please…with me on top?”

“…other. Tom is alway…wait, what?”

Seven met his gaze steadily. Her smirk widened in triumph as his pupils dilated significantly, rendering his irises, tinted by the coloured contacts, an animalistic golden rim around black. “You heard what I said.” She gracefully lifted herself off him to stand upright again, though she stayed between his knees as his grip instinctively tightened. She put her hands over his, “We have a…deal then?”

Chakotay made a sound between a groan and a hoarse laugh, smiling at her ruefully in defeat even as he pretended to ponder. “All right…” He agreed, but leaned back into the couch, anchoring himself and her in place. “But can’t I cash in your part of the deal first?” He smirked at her raised brow, “You _know_ that’ll be the most fun part of the night corazón, even if the party is as worthwhile attending as you think.”

“You are confident of that, are you?” Seven teased, laughing at his dramatically offended expression in response. “I set the deal Chakotay, and attending the party is a condition.”

Chakotay leaned forward, his arms coiling all the way round her as he rested his forehead briefly on her stomach, then gazed up at her with puppy dog eyes, even as his voice hit a rough, gravelly low note. “We could negotiate the terms…”

Seven had to take a deep breath as her stomach betrayed her by fluttering insistently, her heart pumping and her nerve endings tingling as she ran a hand through his hair. “No, because your terms would ruin our costumes…”

Chakotay glanced down at his painted hands and shrugged, then saw her face. “I’d be careful.” He assured her, “You only painted our…extremities…”

She’d also researched the uniforms and replicated them, had temporarily bleached her hair even lighter and spent 42 minutes braiding it into this authentic and intricate Andorian style. Not to mention all the body paint, even ‘only’ the extremities and their faces had absorbed a great deal of her time. “Let’s go.” She looked down at him pointedly, “If we are late, my deal is forfeit.”

That was enough to make him jump up, but he still shot her a wounded frown. “You’re not playing fair, Crewman.”

Seven stepped into him until their bodies were flush, then gave him a playful nudge in the groin. “And you are not acting much like an android Commander.” She concluded in a satisfied purr.

Chakotay’s breath caught then hissed out. “Okay, okay, let’s go.” He croaked out, but grabbed her hand as he recovered and followed her towards the door. “But we hurry home when it’s over.”

Seven gave him her typical bird like nod while smiling warmly, “I can concur with that condition.”

* * *

 

They walked hand in hand down the corridors, which were almost deserted bar a couple of members of Beta shift who’d later ensure that the party went on past midnight so they got their chance to don costumes and celebrate. Likewise, Gamma would moan at having to leave as the Beta shift arrived and Alpha had better not drink much synthehol or the 08:00-16:00 shift tomorrow would be nightmare of a group hangover. It was one of Chakotay’s duties to corral them, but he didn’t seem bothered by the prospect and Seven hoped that he’d be excused from any little irritations after this particular evening. Now that they were on their way, Chakotay had a spring in his step, joking with those they passed who commented, either admiringly or teasingly, on their costumes. Seven enjoyed the interactions, but she wasn’t quite as relaxed. The party was scheduled to _begin_ at 19:00 hours, and yet already it seemed like the majority of the crew had decamped to the holodecks early. Would that disrupt things, or make it simpler? Really, she hardly knew what to expect any more than Chakotay did. Of course, she’d gradually been learning the positive side of the unexpected, a process that had happily accelerated with Chakotay, but…

Her hand was gently squeezed. The sensors in her implants sent additional information up her arm to her cortical node, but there was no need to decipher it further. Her eyes were already drawn to Chakotay’s face. His subtle reassuring smile as they continued on. Unconsciously, her own smile in return was wider and his gaze warmed even more. Tugging her a little closer, his arm slid around her shoulders as they approached Holodeck 2. She should have known he’d sense something, he’d told her before that she had a certain expression when she was ‘overthinking’. She hadn’t been sure how to take that, then he’d chuckled and told her not to worry about it, that said expression was often ‘cute’. It was a good thing that he hadn’t excessively probed into why she wanted to attend, though she internally conceded, her distraction had worked, on herself too. Now he likely just thought her habitual aversion to parties was resurfacing. Why would he think she was afflicted with nervous anticipation; half relishing and half regretting her role in this, which had been ever expanding?

“Seven! Commander!” Icheb’s voice hailed them. He would’ve sounded as serious as ever to most, but the two of them were attuned enough that they heard a certain eagerness. Fleetingly, Chakotay wondered why _both_ ex-drones were so keen, Seven and Icheb shared a certain wryness about First Contact Day, but Seven had always shrugged off any questions. It was apparently irrelevant. The train of thought was soon abandoned as he slowly absorbed Icheb’s costume, and drew a blank. “Icheb…” He swallowed the question, throwing a teasing smile the boy’s way instead. “It’s Chakotay off-duty, Icheb.” He reminded him as usual.

Icheb’s lips quirked with his brow in a smirk. “Wouldn’t Lieutenant Commander Data be more appropriate?”

Chakotay glanced at Seven, eyes twinkling. “See? The costume is good…”

Seven responded with a soft snort as she again smoothed his costume. Not strictly necessary, since the it was merely the Engineering Gold version of the uniform he wore day in day out, but since their deal she was craving contact. “I said that you were very distinguished if you’ll recall.”

Chakotay looked between them playfully, “Call me Data for tonight Icheb.” He clasped Seven’s hands as they came to rest on his lapel and kissing her knuckles.

“You’ll get blue on your white body paint…” Seven advised him half-heartedly. She’d had to touch them both up after their kisses and caresses in his quarters.

“I do not believe he cares Seven.” Icheb remarked slyly, “Despite his new commitment to his identity as Data.”

“Right.” Chakotay agreed, smirking at Seven. She smiled back, but he could see her still studying his face for any imperfections. “And what do we call you for the night Icheb?”

Icheb had barely opened his mouth before Naomi’s giggle bounced off the corridor walls. “He’s Nikola Tesla!”

Icheb frowned at her, put out at having the beans spilled, but Naomi was nonplussed. With a sigh, he launched into his explanation. “I realise that the theme of this celebration was Starfleet and the Federation…in the vaguest possible terms…” His brow puckered in mute disapproval and Seven mirrored it, though she knew why the theme was purposefully vague. Generating maximum hilarity was also undoubtedly a goal. “…but without Tesla and other ‘mad geniuses’ of his ilk, it is unlikely the Federation would exist.”

“Indeed.” Seven agreed. She resisted the urge to laugh as Icheb’s upper lip contorted, wrangling with his stick on pencil moustache. Otherwise he looked flawless in his suit, late 19th Century if her memory of the Captain’s holoprogrammes served her correctly. The hair on his head was almost as uncooperative as the fake facial hair however, refusing to sit in its neat, historically accurate parted style. She itched to take a comb to it, or at least smooth it down with her hand, but she realised that would be embarrassing. Perhaps he would’ve been better replicating a bowler hat. “You have pursued historical accuracy to a remarkable degree.” She told him, her laugh simmering down to a genuine smile as his posture visibly straightened with pride.

“Starfleet training encourages me to think ‘outside the box’.” Icheb continued to explain in all seriousness.

“You don’t need to worry about that son.” Chakotay assured him, “You’ve come up with ship saving ideas a Starfleet veteran of fifty years wouldn’t have thought of.”

Icheb inclined his head modestly, but his eyes brightened at the praise. “Outside of the Borg Cube then.” He amended, with a glance at Seven, who nodded her approval.

Naomi elbowed him in the side. “Don’t pull at your moustache.” She chided, “It took so long to glue on…”

Icheb heaved a long-suffering sigh, but promptly ceased toying with his ‘tache. “I know.”

Naomi turned sharply away from him, instead grinning at Seven and Chakotay. “Happy First Contact Day!” Her smile looked odd under her layers of extravagant make-up. “Do you know what I am?”

Chakotay squinted. Her hair completely hidden, the detailed scales, , the prosthetic claw hands… But it was the emphasised nostrils that made something click. “You’re a Voth!”

Naomi beamed at him, her smile _almost_ reptilian. “Right! You’re the first one to get it Commander.”

“Well, I did spend some time with them.” Chakotay reminded her. “But you can’t possibly remember them, you were only, what…”

“No, I don’t remember.” Naomi confirmed regretfully, “But I’ve been studying evolution with the Doctor and the idea that they might’ve evolved from Earth’s dinosaurs and ended up in the Delta Quadrant is so cool!”

“The ‘Distant Origin Theory’ of Species 1452.” Seven remarked, “It is intriguing…cool. A very good choice of costume Naomi, well executed and most likely unique.”

“Thank you Seven.” The half-Ktarian, her horns integrated into the scales, looked happily up at her friend. “Everyone else I’ve asked just guessed lizard…”

“The Voth are a reptilian species.”

“Yeah.” Naomi conceded, “But I don’t get why people have been asking me to make sure I tell Tom and the Captain I’m a little lizard. I’m not, so why? Are they scared of lizards or something?”

“I do not know.” Seven answered honestly, though out of the corner of her eye she saw Chakotay clamp a hand over his mouth, and her sensitive ears caught a stifled guffaw coming from his direction. Samantha Wildman, standing behind her daughter, was also biting her lip and red in the face. She was confused, but decided that if they were not being open as to the source of their amusement, it must not be appropriate for Naomi’s ears. “You look very nice Samantha.”

“You too Seven.” Sam returned easily.

“Oh yes!” Naomi enthused, “You look beautiful Seven.” She said earnestly, then threw an impish glance between her and Chakotay. “I didn’t know that Mr Data had an Andorian girlfriend…”

Seven shrugged, “Creative licence.” She replied, making them all bar Icheb laugh; he quirked a brow at her.

“I think that if Naomi doesn’t become the Captain’s assistant, or yours in Astrometrics, she’ll become a make-up artist.” Samantha told Seven as they all began to troop into the holodeck. “She’s had so much fun already and the party hasn’t even started yet.”

“I’m glad.”  The Trill spots that had been painted down the side of Samantha’s head and neck only slightly out of alignment told Seven that Naomi may well have a talent for make-up application. She leaned into Chakotay’s ear as the Wildmans and Icheb forged ahead. “Are you going to tell me what’s so amusing about lizards?”

Chakotay choked on another laugh. “You didn’t get a flash of it in our mind link?” he asked wryly, “Because it scarred me for life.” He chuckled again.

Seven drew a blank. Beyond that, she wasn’t used to him referring to when he’d broken her link with the Collective in a joking manner, if at all, though they’d long since opened up about it to each other and made their own peace with it. “Chakotay…”

Chakotay hugged her into his side. “Warp ten.” He whispered, snickering as her eyes widened in recognition.

“That is a cruel joke…” She started, but her lips were turning up despite herself.

“It’s also hilarious.” Chakotay laced her fingers with his and tugged her towards the door. “Let’s go in and get this over with…” He winked at her as she huffed.

“Remember that our deal is only valid if you attend.” Seven reiterated, “And I will remind you of that ‘hilarious joke’ if someone has dressed up as a crashed shuttle…”

Chakotay burst out laughing. “If anyone does, I’ll give them a clap on the back.” He suddenly grabbed her waist and spun her around, still laughing as he kissed her. “One more before I have to start acting like an android.”

“One more.” Seven returned the kiss with a sweet, tempting one of her own, then pushed him onto the holodeck before he could back out.

* * *

 

In the event, Seven was more inclined to walk back out than Chakotay was. This was…not what she’d been led to expect. Her heels were sticking to the laminate ‘pine’ floorboards. She didn’t want to think about what the substance on the floor was, holographic or not. “It looks like your boxing gym.” She finally commented.

Chakotay shrugged, laughing to himself at her distinctly unimpressed expression. It was cute, with her nose scrunched… Man, he had it bad! “Leave my boxing gym out of this!” he jokingly protested, looking around. “This is more like a school gym.”

Seven shot him a dubious glance. The ancient benches, the rusting folding tables that looked ready to collapse under the weight of the food atop them. The sickly strip lighting… “This resembles your school?”

“Not at all.” Chakotay admitted. His village’s schools, both elementary and high school, had been disjointed warrens of pre-fabricated buildings, the original brought with the founding colonists. An emergency stop gap that had become permanent and expanded on. By his own school years, it had been at the heart of a debate about the colony’s very future, the benefits and patronisation of a ‘Federation education’. “This is more of a cliché.” He ran a hand over his face was he took in the streamers, balloons, and banners. “A prom cliché…”

“I’ll have you know _I_ enjoyed my prom.” The Captain teased, tapping his shoulder as she approached from behind.

“Bet you were prom queen.” Chakotay replied in the same tone as he turned to her.

She gave a rich laugh. “You would lose that bet!” The gold bracelets heavy around her wrists jangled. Like Seven, she was dressed in a Kirk-era cadet’s uniform, hers in science blue. Her auburn hair, obviously lengthened by extensions for the occasion, had been swept up and puffed into a full beehive, long drop sparkling earrings exposed. “A good choice of costume for both of you.” She commented, “I think you may just be the only Mr Data here Chakotay, you’ll stand out.” She winked at Seven, who fought not to smile. Thankfully Chakotay missed the silent exchange, his attention on the growing crowd’s costumes.

“You were right to avoid Kirk and Spock, querida.” He told Seven as he saw a group of bulging yellow jumpers and long Vulcan robes, their wearers in various states of drunkenness.

Seven’s eyebrows rose as she watched. “I doubt Ambassador Spock would’ve ever attended a prom.”

“You never know.” Kathryn remarked lightly, “He was half human.”

Chakotay laughed suddenly, “Well, people have decided Captain Janeway would have attended on duty!”

Kathryn whipped around to see who he was pointing at. There were the Delaney twins, Megan in her old long up do hairstyle, and Jenny in a bob wig, staring at her like deer in headlights, caught out. She held their gaze for a long moment, then gave them a big thumbs up. Everyone around instantly grinned at her good humour, many laughing.

“Quite the tribute.” Seven commented with a smirk.

“I’ll take it that way.” Kathryn replied with a wry smirk, “Although I don’t think I’ll be reporting the details of this particular First Contact Day celebration back to Starfleet.”

“It’s unconventional.” Seven agreed, “The setting as well as the costume choice.” She squinted at one particularly large banner than read ‘Class of ‘96’ in elaborate script. “I also do not see the significance of any year ending in 96 that has a connection to the First Contact legend.”

“Legend?” Chakotay questioned, smiling.

“Believe me, the recorded history is a legend.” Seven answered with a shake of her head.

“Well, most of this crew can say they’ve seen _1996_.” Kathryn pointed out, “The first incident we met Braxton.” She mirrored Seven’s grimace, the ex-drone had had her own run-in with Braxton. “It’s probably one of Tom’s little jokes…”

“Excuse me Captain…” The Doctor intervened, “But I’ll say 1996 was a wonderful year, the time I came into my own, got my mobile emitter…”

“Voyager’s EMH: Driving us crazy outside of Sickbay since 1996.” B’Elanna quipped dryly, earning a glare from the Doctor, though only his voice gave away his identity. “You know it’s cheating to just change your matrix for the night Doctor, right? You could’ve just put on a costume like rest of us…”

The Doctor, with Reg Barclay’s face, looked the Chief Engineer up and down. “Don’t worry, I won’t be taking a leaf out of your book…”

B’Elanna answered with a wide smirk, preening pointedly in her Orion slave girl’s outfit. “You couldn’t pull this off.” She glanced down at herself, “Well, maybe I can’t yet either, but I’ve beaten the baby tummy into submission…”

“You look great B’Elanna.” Kathryn assured her, sincerely impressed. Seven also nodded her agreement. “Now where’s that lucky husband of yours?”

“He’s getting Miral ready. Apparently, her costume is the big surprise of the night.” B’Elanna rolled her eyes as she tried not to look Chakotay’s way.

“It’s cute! I promise!” Harry argued with a boyish laugh beside her. The ill-fitting wig of Klingon hair on his head slid forward in his enthusiasm, half hiding the lopsided forehead ridges.

“Don’t be offended that I don’t believe you, Starfleet. Any more than I believe Tom.”

“Hey…” Harry protested, “This bat’leth has a pointy end you know.”

“Be careful with that Ensign!” The Doctor chided, “That’s a lethal weapon, how did you replicate…”

B’Elanna sighed, “I loaned him my display one for the night.” She eyed the Ops Officer warily. He was holding the damn thing all wrong. Any other Klingon would’ve stripped him of it and skinned him with it if they’d seen that. “Which I’m already starting to regret…”

Harry shot her a hurt look from under his false bushy eyebrows, but pointed the bat’leth in the Doctor’s direction. “Don’t worry Doc, you’re safe as long as you don’t dump Chakotay and I in the morgue again!”

Chakotay laughed at the Doctor’s instantly miffed, and contrite, expression. “Yeah, please don’t. Take over anybody’s face but mine…” He thought about it for a second, grimacing in disgust. “…or Seven’s.” Seven swatted him lightly as she too winced at the thought.

“The Doctor took over my real body once.” She reminded him. Her boyfriend shuddered violently.

B’Elanna suddenly gagged, her eyes bugging as she looked beyond the Doctor towards the holodeck’s door. “Tom!” She exploded, “Fires of Grethor! What have you done to my baby?!” She rushed forward to snatch Miral out of the pilot’s arms.

Tom was nonplussed by her reaction, grinning like a Cheshire cat, a blue, Bolian, Cheshire cat. “What? She’s as cute as I promised babe.”

“ _Don’t_ ‘babe’ me!” B’Elanna growled, “ _Vermin_ aren’t cute! Tribbles! They’re…”

“…the scourge of the Empire, I know.” Tom finished, “But they’re also freaking cute.”

“She is B’Elanna.” Kathryn said in a soothing tone, joining Seven in crooning to the loudly babbling, squirming baby, her little face peeking out of the furry suit.

“See, _she_ likes it.” Tom pressed as his daughter’s face shifted into a satisfied expression.

“No mister, that’s her poop face.” B’Elanna shot back with an air of triumph as his face fell, “And you’re dealing with it tonight, since you put her in the damn costume.”

“Okay, okay.” Tom groused playfully, taking his daughter in his arms and giving her a wary sniff. “Nope, not called to duty yet.” He muttered in relief, as his wife and their friends laughed. “Good, because I don’t want Miral or I to miss the main event…” B’Elanna and Harry both elbowed him, one on each side.

“Main event?” Chakotay queried, looking around with a chuckle. “Isn’t all this enough?”

Tom acted as if he hadn’t spoken, addressing Seven instead. “So, you decided to be a real ice princess tonight, huh?”

Seven played along. “I decided to embrace the epithet…for tonight.”

“We’re just different shades of blue.” Tom inclined his head, bald capped and blue. “I’m a Bolian trader, who’s also a crack pilot of course.”

“Of course.” B’Elanna echoed sarcastically, leaning in until Orion green lips met Bolian blue over Miral’s furry head.

“Captain.” Tuvok made his way from the thickening crowd towards them. His costume was the most dignified, and logical; his Starfleet dress uniform. “It appears as if the crew are abandoning their shifts to attend this celebration prematurely.” He glanced at Chakotay, who was in control of the rotas, and who appeared confused. “They were scheduled to attend later, having the whole crew here at once is…”

Kathryn regarded him fondly. “Temporary Mr Tuvok, temporary. Don’t worry.”

Chakotay frowned at this exchange. Kathryn was far from lax about protocol. “Uh, Captain…”

Tom cut in again, “So Tuvok, who are you dressed up as? Neelix?”

Tuvok regarded him, unblinking as everyone within earshot laughed. “Mr Paris…”

“Or a Kazon Ogla maybe? The ears are really throwing me…”

The holodeck was suddenly plunged into total darkness. There were a few gasps of surprise, his own included, but Chakotay thought most of the whoops he heard were…excited rather than afraid. Eerie, flickering light burned his retinas in the dark for a split second, then he could make out a disco ball descending from the darkness, flashing in and out as fog began to spill out over the floor. Fog? His eyes stung with it, and he heard several coughs, although the sound that dominated was a great roar of feet. People stamping in time on the floor. Then great, monstrous bells started to chime.

“Is that Big Ben?” Someone, he thought it might be Crewman Biddle, asked into the murk.

“What is ‘Big Ben’?” Vorik asked back, blankly.

“It’s a clock in London that…”

“Idiots.” Ensign Baytart broke in, “That’s AC/DC.” Chakotay realised he was right as rock guitars began to overlay the bells.

A ghostly spotlight drifted down from the flickering disco ball, onto a black stage he could just make out that had suddenly materialised. Under that spotlight was a black hooded figure with a scythe…

“Security alert!” Tuvok announced, phaser in hand. “Lieutenant Ayala…”

“Chill Tuvok!” The hood fell back to reveal Chell, who looked put out until he saw the Vulcan’s face. “Jeez, you look like you’re going to have a heart attack…”

“Put the hood back up Chell!” Tom yelled at him insistently, even while choking on guffaws.

“Oh yeah!” Chell hurriedly pulled the hood back up, his voice dropping deep. “I’m the Grim Reaper…” He edged to the front of the stage, giving the scythe a wobbly swing. “Here to claim a soul for a…” He took a deep breath, “…PAAARTAAAY!!”

The scythe swung, cutting through air that was a bit too close for comfort to Chakotay’s shoulder. “¿Que diablos Chell?” he yelped, even as he laughed.

“What?” Tom questioned, sidling up to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Did you think the Reaper’s here for you for something?” He glanced sidelong at Tuvok, smirking. “Tuvok certainly did.”

“No, but…” Chakotay began, slowly taking in Seven’s expression of stricken anger. She looked ready to slap Tom.

Chell’s hood slipped back down as he beamed at him, the foot stamping had become an insistent roar, drowning out the music. “Happy Birthday Chakotay.”

All the lights suddenly switched back on, revealing Icheb at the holodeck controls and an entirely different décor in the room. Black. Grim reapers, references to old age like bed pans… But his eyes focused on the massive crowd suddenly before him, the Maquis at the forefront but the whole crew present. “HAPPY FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY CHAKOTAY!” They cheered deafeningly, then, “YOU’RE NOW OFFICIALLY OVER THE HILL!”

“Three cheers for Chakotay!” Ayala rallied the crowd. “Hip, hip…”

“HOORAY!”

“Hip, hip…”

“HOORAY!”

“HIP, HIP…”

“HOORAY!!!” The final cry made his ears ring and his eyes water, but he suspected those were tears as he took in the proud smiles of his people.

He began to laugh riotously, turning to Seven, whose eyes were now shining beautifully as she took in his touched reaction. “You knew?!”

“Yes.” She admitted, but then glared Tom’s way, “Not about the detail of the…theme, but that it was a surprise for you, yes.”

“I guess I know now why you were so determined for me to come that you bribed me.” He whispered, kissing her.

Seven was blushing under her make-up as she ran a hand down the side of his face. “Happy Birthday again älskling.”

“Yeah again.” Chakotay’s eyes skimmed over the multitude of faces, “And here I was, feeling relatively ignored on my actual birthday, only for you to spring this on me two weeks later!”

“I believe it was an effort to intensify the surprise.” Icheb said as he approached.

“Icheb, my man!” Tom greeted him enthusiastically, “Great work!”

Seven’s eyebrows rose as close as they could to her hairline. “Icheb? You were involved in this plan?”

“Only in the execution.” Icheb clarified quickly.

“If it makes you feel any better Seven, Icheb was paid…” Tom told her with a wry shrug.

“No, it does not.” Seven answered, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, “Paid with what?”

Icheb stayed silent, but Tom couldn’t resist. “With access to a holo-programme no boy would want their mother to see…” Seven’s glare was such that Tom’s laugh died and he tried to hide behind a sniggering B’Elanna. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! It was replicator rations!”

“Should my band and I get up to play some music on that stage?” Harry hurriedly suggested as a peace offering.

Seven relaxed, realising as Chakotay rubbed her back that she had perhaps overreacted. Chakotay seemed to be enjoying himself. “We will bring out the cake I made first, although Tom has likely ruined it with a Grim Reaper topper.”

“The Andorian Ice Princess is psychic!” Tom gasped theatrically.

“I could sing while you’re cutting the cake!” The Doctor suggested, “Computer, restore the EMH’s usual appearance parameters and put me in a tux…”

“No!” Everyone in the room chorused, Chakotay the loudest.

The Doctor pouted, “Why not? We need some entertainment that isn’t Chell tripping over in black drapes…”

“Maybe on your birthday Doctor…” Kathryn proposed, thinking on her feet.

“I don’t have a birthday.” He pointed out, “So I’ll make use of all of yours.”

“Disable his singing protocols for the night.” Kathryn hissed to B’Elanna.

Tom was still in fine form, “When you finally get around to choosing a name, you can pick a birthday too Doctor. Then you can sing _all_ you want…”

* * *

 

Chakotay cast a furtive glance over his shoulder before his eyes were drawn magnetically back to Seven’s as she muffled a giggle. He grinned at her, unabashed. “I don’t think they’re following us…” He decided, though began to jog the last few metres to his quarters.

“That’s because the party is over.” Seven pointed out as she let him pull her along, “Everyone is too tired, overfed or drunk to play any more pranks on you…”

“Maybe…” Chakotay admitted, “But I wouldn’t put it past some of them to fill my quarters with foam or some crap to haze me…”

Seven halted abruptly, jerking Chakotay to a stop. She looked at his looming doors with wide eyes. “I was not aware of this tradition.”

“Well, it’s more of a bachelor party thing…” Chakotay clarified without thinking, then trailed off, feeling himself blush under the already melting make up. He cleared his throat, then chuckled at himself as he saw similar emotions whip the sea of Seven’s eyes even as they softened. He reached for her and was glad when she stepped close. “So you were briefed on a lot of this, were you?” he remarked, reading into her words. “Whose idea was all this?”

“That has been declared a ship secret.” Seven replied with a conspiratorial smile.

“And here I thought I’d built up a pretty high security clearance…”

Seven leaned into him, one blue finger brushing his patchily metallic lips. “I _can_ tell you it was a group effort.” She confided as she slowly interlocked her fingers behind his neck. “You enjoyed the party?” she checked, voice soft and sincere.

“Muchísimo, corazón.” Chakotay confirmed at once, his own hands knitting together at the small of her back. “I don’t think I’ve had such a party thrown for me in my adult life.” He added with a wry smile. “¿Y tú? ¿Te gustó?”

“I do not think I have ever stayed so long at party.” Seven answered, her tone deadpan but her smile warm.

“I can’t remember when I last did either.” Chakotay agreed, “But still…” He brought his forehead down to hers, his thigh slipping between her legs, already parting as he nipped the shell of her ear. “…I think I’m ready for bed.” He put one hand behind her against the wall by his door.

Seven cocked her head at him. “Well…we do need to check your quarters for possible damage…” With a smirk, she ducked under his arm, laughing as he huffed at the manoeuvre, and slinked into his quarters with him right behind.

“Your fears were unfounded.” She confirmed at once.

Chakotay’s eyes were slower in adjusting to the sudden darkness as the door shut on the light from the hall. “Computer, lights.” He ordered swiftly, then winced at the light blaring into his eyes. “Dim lights 50%.” He amended, blinking and squinting until his eyes relaxed and could happily focus on Seven again, though he gave the room a cursory glance. “You’re right, but then we haven’t checked the bedroom.”

Seven snorted, “Romantic.” She remarked drily, sidling back up to him. “I have not forgotten.” She assured him, catching his pouting bottom lip in a teasing peck. “Although you should not have required such a deal to attend your own birthday party…”

Chakotay took her elbow as she turned away, “Ah now, come on Seven…” He spun her back into him. “I didn’t know about my _surprise_ party, and even if I had, I might still have needed our deal as incentive…”

“Chakotay!”

He chuckled, giving her a squeeze. “Stage fright querida. You never know, it was a big party. I might’ve been even more reluctant to go and needed more encouragement…” They were close enough now that he felt as well as heard her low laugh.

“Are you saying I need to try harder?” Seven murmured coyly as she pressed herself wholly up against him. His smirk was against her throat, his rumble of a laugh in reply making her skin prickle with goosebumps even as it warmed. One of his hands pushed her hair tenderly aside as she instinctively extended her neck, the other hand cupping her breast, stroking it firmly with his thumb. She sighed, arching her back and tilting her hips. He didn’t start gently, immediately sucking at that sensitive spot on her throat, _hard_. She seized his collar as she choked on a moan. “Come on.” She ground out, striding backwards towards the bedroom, still leading him by the collar. Though her pride wanted to deny it, when his lips left her tingling skin to let his smouldering eyes meet hers in open triumph, desire flared down her spine like a match being struck. She only just made it into the bedroom before she stopped, struggling to easily move backwards in open heels. Chakotay steadied her, but captured her lips. She responded eagerly. The leading, familiar taste of him had the tang of synthehol behind it, and… She pulled back, seeing that he too was confused by the vile taste. “It’s the make-up…” She realised with a frustrated sound.

Chakotay caught a look at himself in the mirror behind her. “Panda eyes.” He’d finally given in and rubbed at his eyes, but Seven saw that there were tracks running down too. He’d protested that the contacts were making his eyes water when the crew had teased him about tearing up. She suspected it was a mixture of both. He chuckled, those ‘panda eyes’ intent on her face again. “You’re dripping too querida.”

“Dripping?” With her grimace, Seven could feel more of the make-up peeling away from her hairline, sticking to any loose strands like glue, she’d been aware of that for hours, but to be dripping? Chakotay suddenly reached in and brushed the tip of her nose, flashing her an amused smile as he held up his finger with the fresh blue spot in evidence. Seven huffed in disgust, backing up a step when Chakotay laughed louder. “I should have replicated more effective body paint…” She muttered irritably.

Chakotay reached a placating hand out to her. “It was effective for the duration of the party.” He assured her, “And so many people said we looked perfect.”

Seven’s body relaxed even as she shot him a knowing look that told him she knew very well that he was only appeasing her. Her brow quirked, “Even if that was the case then…” She conceded wryly, “I am ready to dispose of this costume now.” She reached around to undo the few hooks at the top of the dress, then she’d move down to the zip. She bit her lip as her fingers fumbled around the fabric. Even just that one gulp of Chakotay’s drink must have affected her coordination… “Assist me.”

Chakotay had his hands on her hips to turn her before she could twist herself. His right hand made obliging and quick work of the hooks before gently tugging at the zip. His left rubbed languorously over her hip, skimming down her thigh before returning with more pressure. She began to shrug her arm out of the dress gratefully, but he held her in place. “How did…” He swept her hair one out of the way in one smooth movement and pressed his lips against the finer hairs at the nape of her neck, “…you ever…” He smiled at her shiver, moving his lips fractionally down her spine, never fully breaking contact even as he spoke. “…manage those biosuits?”

Seven exhaled slowly as he edged the zip down, his lips following it in a path down her newly exposed skin, free of the make-up. Her rueful laugh was rough, hitching as he found an inexplicably ticklish spot between her shoulder blades. “Perseverance.” She answered with a soft sigh. All those initial hours alone in Cargo Bay, dark and cold because she’d had no access to any systems whatsoever. Her body still painful from the extraction surgery, her hair a bewildering irritant, the biosuits flummoxing in their necessity as well as their application. His arm curled protectively around her waist, a warm, comforting weight. She sighed again as his fingers splayed over her stomach; and she let the past go. “Älskling...” She murmured, placing her hand over his, nudging it lower.

“Hmm?” Chakotay’s lips were suddenly against her ear, making her jump. “¿Sí, mi amor?” he breathed, hot and heavy. He pulled back before she could answer, returning to her back, retracing his agonisingly slow trail.

“Aren’t…” Seven’s breath snagged on a surge of pleasure as he pulled the zip further down and slipped his hand under the dress. His other hand left her stomach momentarily, but only to weave under the dress and join its mate stroking her hot skin (and likely leaving a stain of body paint in his wake). “Aren’t stripteases supposed to be for your benefit?” she forced out as her body responded, arching and buckling under his skilful, relentless touch.

Chakotay grunted, his amused voice hoarse. “Don’t worry, I’m ‘benefiting’ from this just fine querida.”  He laid one last feverish kiss on her spine, right at the centre of the implant that traversed it, enough to make her shudder, then lost patience which up until then had seemed boundless. He pulled the zip down, unfastening her bra at the same time.

Seven rolled her hips as he tugged at the dress and finally it pooled around her, still heeled, feet. Whipping the bra off, she handed the red lace confection to Chakotay, smirking at his expression. It would likely need to be recycled, the dye appeared to have stained the straps, but she didn’t need to tell him that. She looked down at the dress as she stepped out, brow furrowing. “I cannot fathom how that was ever considered appropriate Starfleet attire.”

“I think it was style over substance for a few lost decades.” Chakotay agreed, “That whole time was a little wild if you believe even some of the legends.”

“You?” Seven teased, “The ship historian?”

“It’s the myths and stories that get you interested in the first place.” Chakotay replied, his gaze drifting slowly down her body to the discarded dress, any of its glamour now gone. “To be fair, it wasn’t just the women. Did you see how tight the jerseys were on the men?”

Seven lips twisted, unable to settle on either a smile or a grimace. “Some of our crewmates should have realised they do not have a young Captain Kirk’s physique.”

“Captain Kirk, huh?” Chakotay muttered, patting his own stomach, “Well neither do I now…”

“Kirk is irrelevant.” Seven answered brusquely, turning into him and briefly tucking her head into his neck. “You are not.”

“That’s good to know.” Chakotay murmured happily as he kept her head in place, smoothing her hair then running a hand down her warm cheek. She lifted her face to his in response and they kissed, slow and deep. He couldn’t help but grimace rather comically as he got another taste of the make-up. “You should have replicated edible body paint…”

Seven’s eyes widened as her eyebrows shot up to her damp and discoloured hairline. “Vad?” She blinked, “Du hade…”

Chakotay winked at her, “I’ve heard of it.” He gave her lips another playful kiss as she snorted softly, then dropped his head to lay more committed kisses in the valley between her breasts.

He felt her quake with a teasing laugh as her fingers buried in his hair. “Humans…” She muttered breathlessly.

“Yes, we are.” He replied, glancing up to meet her gaze, dark as the deepest seas now, before his attention swung back to her body. He groaned as it did, “Eres tan hermosa…” He pulled her hips close, teasing at her underwear.

“I think…” Seven took a deep gulp of air, but a whimper of pleasure escaped with a wry giggle. “…we are rather unbalanced.”

“Unbalanced?” Chakotay echoed, not really listening as his hands and mouth continued to roam freely.

“I am undressed and you are certainly _not_.”

Chakotay grinned wolfishly against her left nipple. “I’m okay with that…”

Seven responded with a light shove to his shoulders, but ‘light’ from her was enough to make him back up a couple of steps. “Proceed.”

“Okay, okay…” Chakotay agreed, laughing sheepishly as he began to strip off hurriedly, with much less care than he had peeled off her costume. Seven didn’t help. She watched, laughing to herself. 

When she saw however, how much his make-up had deteriorated into sticky, greyish, striated mush clinging to his skin, she heaved a sigh of frustration. “We will both have to shower.” She knew she hadn’t fared much better, covered in splotches of his paint as well as her own gradually streaming off with sweat.

Chakotay moaned a protest as he half crouched to kiss her belly. “ _Later_ , mi vida…”

Seven gasped at the contact but pulled herself together a little as she brushed a clump of paint off his muscled arm in distaste, glad to see the heathy tan skin beneath, even though it too was a little sticky. “We will stick together if we do not…”

Chakotay rose again, so that they were eye to eye. “Would that be so bad?” he questioned mischievously, kissing the side of her mouth wetly, make-up be damned. “Hmm, would it?” he asked again as he massaged her breasts.

“Nej…” Seven admitted throatily as she responded to the kiss. Then she pulled back, shaking her head and smirking, “But we’re still going to shower.”

“Spoilsport.” Chakotay muttered as he brought both hands to hold her face.

Seven smiled coyly at him, “I take it then, that you don’t want to help each other in the shower? It will be time consuming to get all this paint off…”

Chakotay regarded her, relishing the banter. She was in the mood for it tonight, first their ‘deal’ and now this. Late, surprise birthday celebrations were proving lucky for him. “That’s what you’re suggesting is it?”

“Indeed.” Seven carefully toed out of her heels and stepped out of the underwear around her ankles. She cocked her head at him, revelling in the way he drank her in. “If you are amenable?”

Chakotay rolled his eyes at her. Seizing her hands, he dragged her towards the bathroom, chortling roughly as she gasped.

* * *

 

Seven’s eyes narrowed as she stood in front of the mirror, inspecting herself for traces of paint. There. A line of blue at the back of her knee. It could wait, even Chakotay wouldn’t kiss her there. Although he did have a habit of perversely returning to spots that were unexpectedly ticklish. He had a good memory in that regard. She half turned, lifting the wet tendrils of hair to check her neck, and sighed as her fingers snagged on stubborn knots. It had been a fight to get that antenna off her head without ripping some entangled hair out at the root. Chakotay had had to help. Thankfully, her grunts of irritation and pain hadn’t killed the mood entirely, though Chakotay had teased her mercilessly. She’d gotten her own back in way when she’d had to put eye drops in for him to ease the contacts out. He’d earned a pointed frown every time he didn’t hold his eye open long enough or dared to whine. A warmth rose up through her chest again as she thought of how they’d laughed at their own childishness between hungry kisses and blissful moans.

Her eyes scanned the bedroom for the comb and brush she’d replicated to remain in his quarters. Why couldn’t he leave things where she’d… She spotted them, not on the bedside table on her side where she’d placed them, but on the little alcove shelf near the bathroom door. A practical enough position she supposed, if they were to be moved. The comb was used first, scraping through the damp locks just beginning to bounce off her bare shoulders. She was most certainly a ‘pink skin’ again, pink and white; red where she’d had to scrub especially hard at the paint. Her hair however, was having an identity crisis. The crown of her head was restored to its usual shade, a burnished gold when wet, but the dye used to achieve Andorian white left its stubborn mark. From about her cheekbones downwards, her golden hair was still dipped in platinum. A more thorough wash might have saved her from the two-toned look, but Chakotay had been…distracting. She’d make a more efficient _solo_ effort in the morning.

She pretended to focus on tackling a particularly offensive knot as she heard the bathroom door open. The brief rush of humidity was pleasant on her skin. “Are you checking yourself for paint remnants too?” she questioned, watching her own brow rise in her reflection as she caught his intent, smouldering gaze in the mirror.

“It’s not me I’m checking out.” Chakotay replied with that low, rumbling laugh. The sound that could hook Seven’s insides and reel them in taught. He in turn loved that seductive smile that was always slow to dawn, never planned or posed, and doubly dazzling in the end for it. He padded over to her, his hand, claiming the waiting brush. “Don’t brush your curls out hermosa.”

Seven’s sigh was more humorous than truly exasperated. She was used to this refrain. “I am merely trying to make it manageable for the morning.” She finally smoothed out the knot she’d been working on, “I don’t understand this fixation you have with my hair…”

Chakotay had coiled one thin but defined ringlet around his finger, and slowly drew it down to the swell of her breast, holding it there as he kissed her throat. “I’ll remember you said that next time you say you really don’t mind if I don’t shave. I’ll follow Starfleet regulations to the letter…” He let the curl go and it languidly bounced back up. He gently pinched her nipple between thumb and forefinger as a pout began to form on her lips.

“I suppose I could let it dry naturally for now.” She conceded with a vague smirk as she pressed into his hand. _Hands_. The other was dipping to follow other curves. “I will need to wash it again tomorrow any…” Her voice broke off as that hand found its goal between her legs. She retaliated by reaching back and digging her nails into his thighs, and nudging back, getting her own breath back as he groaned explicitly.

His panting breath singed the back of her neck and burned down her spine. “Another deal to add to that one you still owe me.”

“Owe you?” Seven echoed, “Has that debt not been sufficiently cleared?” She twisted her head to blink big eyes at him. “In the shower, I pinned…”

“Yo sé.” Chakotay interjected, grinning even as he put on a plaintive tone. “But that’s an extra, just like _this_ …” He gave a satisfied chuckle as she cried out. “Come on now, you promised. It’s my birthday…”

Seven fought to get air back to her lungs and sense to her thoughts. “Your birthday was thirteen days ago, as you repeatedly pointed out during the party. We…” She couldn’t resist kissing him. “We merely planned the party for this day to ensure the surprise was effective.” She caught his fiery gaze, restored to its natural intense deep brown, coyly. “Also, I recall that on your actual birthday, I…”

Chakotay exhaled roughly through his nose. “Well then, take pity on an old Indian then querida.”

“You’re not old.” Seven protested, turning her face into his neck. “You’re not over the hill.” Her lips pressed together uneasily, “I did not know about that element of the surprise älskling…”

“I know.” He assured her, “You couldn’t have faked that shock.” He regarded her fondly, recalling her near outraged bewilderment.

“I entrusted too much of the planning to your Maquis crew…”

Chakotay gave a wicked chortle. “There’s nothing taboo between me and them anymore, and black humour has sprung up between the years, it’s had to.”

“I should have insisted on more detail of their plans.” Seven muttered with a shake of her head, but blushed a little, “I did not want to dominate proceedings, since it was not my idea. That tendency of mine has not always been accepted by the crew…”

Chakotay kissed the top of her head in reassurance. He knew it cost her to admit her need for control, and that she still felt a little apprehensive about the crew’s reaction to her, at least in social situations. The initial scrutiny of their relationship had been intense, and had been a challenge to get through. They had, but the memory of those stressful weeks lingered. _He_ knew the Maquis at least had accepted her as his partner, that they’d involved her in the party was proof and they all socialised together. He suspected, for all the issues of Seven’s Borg past and his age, the fact that she was utterly separate from the Starfleet/Maquis division was in her favour. For years now, any member of Voyager’s crew would die for the others, they were united, but the past cast a long shadow. “I’m glad you could relax and stay with me, not getting stressed directing things, though you would have done it well.” She nodded and he held her gaze, “Would you have warned me querida?”

Seven hesitated, “I do not know. I would have attempted to suggest another kind of surprise. If they persisted, I would have advised you somewhat.”

“Then that’s the only reason they didn’t tell you, they know how honest you are.”  

“To a fault.” Seven murmured knowingly.

“No…” Chakotay would never see that as a fault, though her honesty could be bruising on occasion. His tone lightened, “If you want to keep up your record of honesty, keep your promise…”

Seven looked up at him through her eyelashes, unconsciously running her tongue over her lips as they curved into a thoughtful smile. “Make me want to keep it.”

Chakotay’s grin spread wide, her purred words the catalyst to set his smouldering desire ablaze. “I can do that.” He squeezed her ass and pulled her flush, his gaze dropping to watch the blush rising up her décolletage as they both moaned. One hand returned to her face as she sank against him, her legs going weak. His rough fingers tenderly brushed her hot cheek, getting tangled in her hair. “Con mucho gusto, mi amor…” The kiss cut off his rolling ‘r’, rapidly deepening as they lost control. Teasing and play could only go on for so long. Seven slung her arms around his shoulders for leverage, her anchor. If she hadn’t cut the nails on her human hand before painting, she may have scratched him. As it was, he was revved up by the biting grip. His chest hair was scratchy and ticklish against her as they kissed and clung together, building friction. Finally, Seven hooked one leg around him, then another. In their fervour, the manoeuvre was not as graceful as she would’ve wished, especially as Chakotay chose that moment to nudge her back towards the bed. They fumbled, Seven’s breathless, happy giggle bursting free and caught in his insistent kiss as they tumbled messily back. He smiled like a devil as she sprawled out under him, as if trying to make a snow angel on his sheets.

She arched a languid brow at him, tugging him down. His eyes, glowing black embers burned into hers for a moment and then he was down, his whole attention on her body. She buried her fingers in his scalp, moaning appreciatively. The breath she drew in brought a brief instant of clarity of thought. This wasn’t quite what she’d promised… Her head was thrown back as her body arched, the thought cut off. Oh… Her brain was swimming in pleasure, sinking in it and popping back up like a cork at Chakotay’s will. She heard him groan and her own in response. He didn’t care what position they were in now... Afterwards, sated, he’d lie beside her with no complaints and sleep contentedly. Still… She really began to writhe, holding her breath as guilt made her resist the urge for a split second. “Chakotay…”

He grunted impatiently, his forehead stilling on her belly as his hands ran up and down the inside of her thighs. He almost ignored her, dismissing it as a moan of pleasure, but reluctantly heard the question there. “¿Qué?” he half growled.

Seven stroked his head as she tried to catch her breath. “You’ve forgotten.” She murmured, amused. “Flip over.”

He pulled back, yanking a plaintive whimper from her at the sudden loss of contact and insistent sensation. He leaned his rough cheek into the silky, vulnerable skin of her inner thigh as an assured smirk settled on his face. His teeth were a brief flash of white in the dim room, a stark contrast to his unblinking black eyes. “You want me to stop?”

“No…” Seven ground out as tears of frustration started to prick at her eyes. “But…” Her breath hissed. “Helvete, Chakotay…”

He chuckled, “I haven’t forgotten, mi vida. But it’s not an either or you know. I can wait…” His head dipped again as his whole frame shudder, “We’ve got all night…”

Absently, Seven’s internal chronometer reported that it was 0347 hours, and therefore already early morning, but that faint whisper of the start of a thought was blown away. Her body plunged gladly back into the pleasure, this time drowning, washing away anything else in the wake of the wave.

He hovered over her, having pulled himself up the bed. Taut with tension that suddenly seemed impossible to her own leaden, wallowing body. His knee braced between her legs and she moaned, almost in surprise, as fresh sparks landed and burrowed deep, flames taking, travelling up. He kissed her parted lips. “Ready?” She deepened the kiss in answer, locking his lips, coaxing his groans. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, started to hook a leg over his hips, fighting to close the gap between their bodies.

His elbows began to buckle under that assault, his groans sharpening, but then with a great heave of effort he rolled away from her. Seven almost snarled in protest. “Chakotay!”

“I’m…I’m doing as I was told.” He chuckled breathlessly, catching her eye.

Seven rolled easily onto him, smirking at his pained groan. Her hands splayed on his chest as she straddled him. She could feel his heart pumping hard through her palms. His hands shot up to her hips to guide her, but she batted them away playfully. “No.”

“Seven…” His eyes started to roll, but closed with pleasure instead. “Querida…” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

She leaned over him, turning her head into his ear, pressing her lips to it. “You cannot say I do not keep my promises now.”

His answer was a violent shudder and a sharp intake of air. His eyes shot open. “No, I can’t.” He admitted thickly as his body jerked. “Mi vida…por favour…”

Her lips slowly crept a fiery path from his ear, along his locked jaw to the corner of his mouth. “Pretty please?”

She flopped down in an ungainly fashion, all of her control and passion spent. Slid down onto her side, one leg still loosely over him. He held it there as his other arm tucked her into his own, still heaving side. His head turned dazedly, burying in the crown of two toned hair. Their breathing slowed, then deepened, and Seven was just starting to drift beyond lingering satisfaction and towards sleep when Chakotay spoke. “If we can keep this deal going, I’ll go to whatever party you want.”

Seven smiled against his chest. “I rarely want to go to parties.” She reminded him, “I am certain however, that I can develop more requests.”

Chakotay’s laugh ruffled her hair. “I’m sure you can.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please review! :D
> 
> Translations, as requested in feedback on previous stories: ‘querida’, ‘mi amor’, ‘corazón’ and ‘mi vida’ are all terms of endearment, as is ‘älsking’. ¿Que diablos? is What the hell? Helvete is ‘Hell’ in Swedish. Chakotay also says, ‘Very much…and you?’ and later, ‘With pleasure’ ‘Por favor’ is please. Seven also says in Swedish, 'What...You have...', and 'No...'


End file.
